


Welcome Back

by ShadowTabby



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, No major Royal spoilers, Slight spoilers for royal social link, spoilers for base game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28856685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowTabby/pseuds/ShadowTabby
Summary: Goro Akechi thought he went into this relationship with a clear plan. Now he struggles to manage the necessary boundaries.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	Welcome Back

Akechi Goro, ace detective, celebrity, has developed a new fall morning routine to be TV ready. He wakes up at 6:30 AM, takes a shower, and dresses. Afterwards, he grips the bathroom sink, meets his gaze in the mirror, and recites his current mantra.

“I hate Kurusu Akira. I hate Kurusu Akira. I hate him.”

Then he packs up his briefcase and leaves his apartment.

The timing of his route to school or various morning TV appearances is now incredibly crucial. He absolutely must miss the 8:15 Ginza line. This imperative is more difficult than it initially appears. Akechi has always been a fast walker with little patience for dawdling. Consequently, he never quite manages to miss the 8:15, meaning he runs into Kurusu Akira waiting for the train to Shujin almost every day.

“Good morning, Kurusu-san!” Akechi always says with a warm smile, even though he could walk past or pretend not to see the other teen. “We seem to be running into each other a lot lately!”

Kurusu Akira smiles back at him, his glasses glinting in the over-bright subway lights. “I always look forward to it.”

Akechi lets his smile widen just a fraction while his heart plots murder. Look at this smug bastard, standing there cool as you please with his hands in the pockets of his plaid school slacks and his curly black hair flopping into his face. He has all the casual assurance of a man who thinks he can never be made. But he was careless with his secrets before he realized he and his gang of rebel teens weren’t the only people with personas, and Akechi knows everything he’s been up to for the last few months. The Phantom Thieves only continue to exist because _he_ allows it.

That thought used to cheer him up. It used to be fun to toy with Kurusu—Joker, to his accomplices—by inviting him places and challenging him to harmless competitions of darts or billiards. It had been practical to trade phone numbers as soon as they met, of course. The now famous Phantom Thieves, fresh off their second victory, had wandered into the TV station that June morning like particularly juicy flies tempted into a spider’s web. Obviously, Akechi had decided to roll them up in filament and save them for a snack later, an unlooked for secret weapon against his father and his toadies. Befriending their leader and earning his trust had seemed like the least tedious way to keep tabs on them, and within a month of their first meeting, Akechi was inviting Kurusu out to the aquarium and bathing with him in Yongen-Jaya. But every time he went out with the leader of the Phantom Thieves, something else slipped out. A watered-down version of his family history. A flash of his true nature. An admission that he found Kurusu interesting.

These days, Akechi berates himself that he should have disposed of them quickly, so that Kurusu would not become a thorn in his side. What hubris to think he could somehow control an unknown quantity like the Phantom Thieves!

Oh, how Akechi loathes Kurusu.

After the usual exchange of pleasantries at one of these morning encounters, Akechi always tries to slip away, citing some meeting or being late for his own classes. In the earlier days of this hellish fraternization, Akechi had often lingered on Kurusu’s subway platform, trying to tease out extra information from his adversary. He had initially enjoyed the way Kurusu tried to elude his pointed questions, the fly struggling in his web, but now he knows the thief is cleverer than he had first guessed, and he might get tangled up in his own traps. This grudging admiration is an unfamiliar experience.

He hates the unfamiliar.

One day in early October, just when Akechi is attempting escape, Kurusu stops him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“Hey, not to keep you, but you haven’t been answering my texts. I even went looking for you at the jazz club a few times. Where’ve you been? Busy?”

No. Akechi does not enjoy the way his heart jolts at these words. He jerks his arm away before remembering his manners and fixing a smile on his face. Kurusu’s expression is cool and composed, as always, and he doesn’t sound like he has a vested interest in Akechi’s answer. If anything, Akechi knows the thieves’ leader is probably trying to keep tabs on his movements, maybe even calculating the possibility that he could be the Black Mask Killer. If he finds out now, all Akechi’s years of scheming will be in vain.

But there’s the tiny chance, the slightest, most miniscule possibility that Kurusu Akira just wants to see him. That’s certainly the implication of his occasional text messages. Akechi understands needing to keep your enemies close, but even he has his limits; there’s only so long he can keep up the pleasant, earnest detective persona he’s spent years cultivating, and his rival has an uncanny knack for finding and poking at its weakest spots. Even if Kurusu isn’t actively investigating him now, Akechi should know by now that whatever information he can gain from all this extracurricular activity isn’t worth the steep price of slipping up. And he doesn’t want to test his convictions by engaging in a more personal relationship with the other teen, even for a bit of fun . . .

. . . right?

No. It’s risky. He should have never taken Kurusu to his personal oasis at the club in the first place. That had well and truly been a mistake. It’s time he takes more precautions, even if he has to give up the chance of getting Kurusu to mess up in some more meaningful way. Akechi is so close to his endgame, after all.

“Yes, I’m very busy with all this casework, I’m afraid. The threat of the Phantom Thieves persists, and rumor has it that they plan to attack Okumura Foods next.” Akechi can’t help but look for a flicker of recognition in Kurusu’s eyes here, but he doesn’t even flinch. Oh, he’s good. “But once I have all this in the bag, it would be nice to visit the club with you once again. Or we could explore somewhere else, if you like.”

“I’d like that. You know Tokyo so much better than I do.” Kurusu smiles and nods just as his train pulls up behind him. The accompanying breeze ruffles his dark hair, and Akechi has an unwished for recollection of the time Kurusu ‘disguised’ him from his fans by fluffing his own hair and lending his glasses. “Good luck with all your work, detective.”

“You as well. High school is serious business!” Akechi tries his best for a pleasant wave, then stalks away, inwardly seething.

Just what is Kurusu’s game? How much does he actually suspect? Akechi is as careful as always, but his rival is so hard to read.

Hah! Just listen to him. Rival. As if such an intimate relationship could ever be anything but a liability to him.

He’s still lecturing himself about his carelessness when he strides into Café Leblanc that evening and plops down in a seat by the counter.

Sakura Sojiro glances up at him from where he’s grinding beans from behind the counter. “The usual?” He calls.

Akechi shoots him what he hopes passes for a tired smile. “Yes, please, thank you.”

When Sakura slides the saucer and cup of black coffee under his nose a couple minutes later, he carelessly remarks, “It’s a slow night tonight so take your time. Kurusu always makes it back before eleven.”

He’s moved on to another customer before Akechi can splutter some kind of revealing response like, “Yes, because of his curfew. I know, because I know everything about him.” Sakura and Kurusu aren’t related by blood, and certainly Akechi puts no stock in blood anyway, but there’s something eerily similar about how perceptive the guardian and his ward are. Not for the first time, Akechi wonders what would have become of him if he had a similar caliber person shelter him and raise him, if he would have started this grand scheme with someone capable watching over his shoulder—

No. If that possibility had existed for him, he would be worse off for it. Revenge is his destiny. There is no escaping it. Changing hearts, however the Phantom Thieves are managing that, is for those who lack conviction to see a project through to its ultimate conclusion.

His eyes bore into the black pool of coffee before him. He should leave. He should have never come here in the first place. What did he mean, tempting fate by walking into Kurusu’s home just because he could? Akechi has a solid alibi, so why isn’t he just walking away while he can before Kurusu steps through that door and catches him lingering like a sad puppy?

The bell rings behind him. He doesn’t look up. He knows from the newcomer’s tread they’re not Kurusu Akira, leader of the Phantom Thieves and his most detested rival. But next time it could be, which is why he needs to go.

He caresses the side of the ceramic cup, letting the heavenly steam envelop his face.

Where is Kurusu now? Out with his thieves, storming the cognitive palace of the CEO of Okumura Foods? Or is he maybe scouring Kichijoji, hoping to find Akechi in spite of his clear dismissal earlier? How far would Kurusu go to bump into him? Would he check the police station? The courthouse? And how funny would it be then that the whole time Akechi had been right here, in Kurusu’s own home. How funny, if he were to leave now and then have Sakura inform his charge when he returned that the Detective Prince Goro Akechi had been prowling around his territory. His own form of calling card.

“Ha ha,” Akechi murmurs before taking a sip of coffee. It’s rich and fortifying, strong enough to brace Akechi to step out into the chill autumn night.

Any minute now, any minute—

The bell rings again. This time, with a thrill he’ll deny to himself later, Akechi recognizes the steps. He’s heard them dashing around cognitive palaces for many months now, after all. Without turning around, he smiles.

“Welcome back."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading! I wrote this as a stream of consciousness fic for my sibling while they were trying finish a final haha. I just edited it a bit (while in the airport on four hours of sleep so maybe posting it isn't a great idea oh well lol.) I haven't written a character like Akechi before, but I really enjoy him. My sibling and I have just started the third semester in royal, and this is our second playthrough of the base game. I enjoyed Akechi in the initial game, but royal is what really sold me on Akechi/Joker as a ship, so I wanted to get some of those feelings out haha. Hope it's alright!
> 
> I was mostly struck by how in Royal Akechi seems very torn--he reaches out to you, he pushes you away, then he reaches out again. He feels less in control and more like he's kind of figuring this out as he goes. That's what I tried to capture here!


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